


Star Spangled Spider

by Red_City



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aliens, Angst, Asgard, Avengers - Freeform, Bars, Battle, Bromance, Bruce is so sick of this shit, Bug Creature Things, Clint Angst, Clint Has Issues, Clintasha - Freeform, Confrontation, Cuddling, Drinking, Epic Bromance, Eventual Resolved Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Fury has had enough of this shit, Guys get it together, Homosexuality, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Nicknames, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Oblivious Clint, Oblivious Tony, Romance, SHIELD, Sleep, Spies, Steve knows how to curse, Stony - Freeform, Surveillance, Texting, There is no Steve and Natasha, They are just bros, Tony Angst, Tony Has Issues, UST, Undercover, Unresolved Sexual Tension, You can't die before I tell you how I feel vibes, and more later, assholes, desperate situations, desperate times, friends - Freeform, kiss, more tags to come, sorry - Freeform, tony is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_City/pseuds/Red_City
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Natasha are bros.</p><p>Steve likes Tony, Tony likes Steve. Natasha likes Clint, Clint likes Natasha.<br/>Too bad Tony and Clint think Steve and Natasha are dating.</p><p>Or, the one where miscommunication and assumptions add a whole lot of unnecessary (and delicious) angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an on-going fic that will eventually lead in several relationships and stuff - sort of Cap 2 and Agents of Shield compliant but not really. Almost an AU or sorts. 
> 
> Tags will update as fic does - rating WILL go up later. 
> 
> *EDIT* This is NOT a Steve/Natasha fic - they are just bros. 
> 
> Beta'd by apollojolras

Natasha sighed inwardly, trying not to count the ways she could kill the guy who was trying to talk her up, with one of the ice cubes melting in her martini. He was explaining, drunkenly, about the holes in the plotline of some action flick. She had tuned him out after about three words. The guy had ignored her subtle hinting, her more direct, “Go away,” and laughed at her very serious threat to snap his neck. He thought she was kidding. Cute.

She sighed again, this time outloud, and was rewarded with a hand on the small of her back. She had to forcibly remind herself not to react, and lucky for the guy she had such control, else he would be on the floor with a barstool cutting off the air to his lungs. 

“Get your hands off of me,” she said slowly, and he just smiled, sliding his other hand up her arm. She jerked away from his touch.

“Hey, baby, give me a chance,” he said, and his hand slid back down to her waist, staying there. She gave him a small smile, and pulled out her phone.

>>Asshole Alert, requesting backup

Natasha located Steve on the other side of the bar with her eyes and waited for him to receive the message. He was chatting with Charlie, his favorite bartender (only because they both loved baseball). Steve reached into his back pocket and held up a finger, stopping Charile’s story to read the text. It was the newest Starkphone, practically forced upon him by Tony who said he didn’t work with people who didn’t have at least 32 gigs and 4G on them at all times. Not that Tony needed to really try to convince Steve of anything…

Reading, Steve’s eyebrows shot up and he met Natasha’s eyes over the bar. He tilted his head and she jerked her chin to her left, indicating the guy behind her. Steve’s eyes narrowed when he noticed the guy’s hand on her back. He stood, said something to Charlie, straightened his shirt and walked over.

“Is there a problem, sir?” Steve asked politely, never one to start a fight - but usually the one to finish it.

“Dude, back off, me and the lady here are talking,” the asshole said, brushing up against Natasha, who carefully (and barely) didn’t react.

“I believe the _lady_ told you she wasn’t interested.”

“I believe it’s none of your business,” the guy said, and then nearly dropped his beer when Steve bodily pushed his way in between the guy and Natasha.

“Move, dickhole. I was talkin to her,” the guy said.

“No, I think you were done talking.”

“MOVE,” the guy shouted.

“No,” Steve said quietly.

Natasha grabbed the barstool behind Steve and moved it closer towards her, anticipating what would happen next and not wanting it to be in the way. Sure enough, the asshole threw a punch and Steve grabbed it in mid air, twisting the guy’s arm sharply behind him and slamming him down into the bar. The crowded room stopped for a moment, all eyes turning towards them, but soon enough the chatter started again, after the clientele realized it was just Steve. 

The Avengers had become fairly regular customers here, it being the closest and classiest bar to the Tower, and Steve and Natasha were here every week. The staff and most of the other customers had seen many an asshole get their shit straightened out by Captain America, so it was really no surprise. 

“Listen here, _dickhole,_ ” Steve said into the guy’s ear. “You ever touch, talk, or think about her again, I won’t hold back next time and you’ll end up putting an asshole-sized dent into this bar, capiche?”

Natasha grinned. Steve had been picking up phrases from Tony.

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing man, just don’t break my arm,” the guy whined, and Natasha rolled her eyes. Pathetic.

Steve released him and he immediately disappeared into the crowd.

Steve slid the barstool Natasha had earlier moved back to it’s spot and sat down. Charlie moved his drink over without a word - Coke, Steve was here for the company, not the booze - and Steve thanked him, then turned to Natasha.

“Request backup? Really, Nat?”

“What, he was pissing me off.”

“Not that it bothers me, because it doesn’t, but why didn’t you kick his ass yourself?”

“You know, I had that same thought,” Natasha said, sipping her drink, “but, you see, it’s been a hell of a long time since I had to take someone down without lethal intent.”

Steve looked at her for a second, and she shrugged.

“You called me over because you were worried about killing him?” Steve asked, voice skeptical.

“Basically. It’s a hard habit to break. And I’d never pass up a chance that Captain America would come to my rescue and flex his golden muscles at me, ooh, he’s so perfect, will you sign my boobs?” She said, imitating one of the bimbos they had run into yesterday on the street. Steve frowned at her, so she threw a paper coaster at his face, and he laughed, throwing it back.

Shortly after the Battle of New York, Steve and Natasha had become friends. She wasn’t sure when or who initiated it, but it made sense. They were both always at SHIELD, they were assigned lots of missions together, and more often than not, both cajoled and needled their way out of medical. Once Stark had finally convinced both of them to move into his stupid Tower, they started sparring and watching TV and it just kind of happened. Natasha had Steve in her phone contacts as “All American Vampire Slayer,” (long story,) and she was simply Natasha in his. Stark had valiantly tried to get Steve to use nicknames in the contacts, “Names are booooring, Steve, spice it up, everyone does that,” but he had refused, smiling and saying he preferred it to be simple.

That was something Natasha greatly admired about Steve - he was simple, straightforward, no bullshit. Natasha felt like she didn’t get nearly enough of that nowadays. 

They both knew - or were dimly aware, at least - that most people assumed they were dating. Steve had never said anything about it, and neither had Natasha, but they definitely weren’t dating. Firstly, because Natasha had gathered that Steve leaned more heavily on the male end of the spectrum when thinking of partners. He hadn’t exactly told her, but she knew he was far more likely to check out an Adam than an Eve. And secondly, Steve wasn’t her type. Not that she had a specific type, it was just that currently she was only into green eyes and short hair and leather vests and a tendency to perch in high places and crawl through air vents…

She was fairly certain Steve knew about this, though she had never said anything, because he shot her very meaningful looks during debriefings when she mentioned Clint or he mentioned her.

Steve was comfortable being Natasha’s shield (haha,) and Natasha was cool with being Steve’s beard. The only problem with their little almost-arrangement was that they were so good at acting like they were together (or at least not denying that they were) that everyone believed it. Even those people that were closest to them, and that group included the people that Natasha and Steve ACTUALLY wanted to be dating.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is jealous. Extra jelly.

Clint breathed in a shallow breath as he watched Steve and Natasha on the couch in the common area. Yeah, some might think him creepy. He wasn’t creepy, he was just - interested. _Fuckin Steve Rogers,_ he thought as the pair booed in unison and started throwing popcorn at the screen. The ridiculous, gigantic, AWESOME screen that Stark had installed, easily stretching 10 feet wide. They were watching some stupid reality show together, every week like clockwork for the last two months, and always sat together on the couch, booing at the characters. Clint suppressed the urge to growl. In all honestly, Tash probably knew he was up there. She had a sixth sense, or maybe a seventh or eighth. Especially when it came to Clint. He hadn’t been able to sneak up on her in years. 

Steve and Tash laughed again, and Clint’s frown deepened. After years - YEARS - of working together, fighting together - fucking Steve Rogers swoops in and gets the girl. The guy was pretty perfect, but this was TASH. Clint’s Tash. Or, well, who he thought had been his. Sort of. Steve wasn’t even her TYPE, Clint thought, angrily. He was too - too - too goddamn perfect, that’s what. 

No one had really confirmed anything, but it was assumed they were dating. Clint rolled his eyes at the word as it crossed his mind. It was a little suspicious, though, how they acted around each other. Maybe Clint was just hopeful and paranoid, but he had yet to see them kiss. Or hold hands. Or touch in any way that was more than platonic. Hell, Tash and CLINT touched more often than Tash and Steve. They were always together, but even now, they were sitting a respectable distance away, legs not touching, the bowl of popcorn between them. Tash had never been one for PDA, but this was in the Tower. Alone. And still no touching. Not that Clint wanted them to, it was just WEIRD. 

The two of them definitely had SOMETHING going on though - they were practically attached at the hip, had all these inside jokes, whispered to each other at the table..it was nauseating. Steve had even gotten her to watch reality TV. What the hell did he have that Clint didn’t?

Whoa, he told himself. Let’s not go there. Steve had plenty Clint didn’t have, and a lot less shit in his record. Maybe that was it? Maybe Clint was too messed up for Tash?

Clint scoffed at himself. Tash had plenty more than he did in her record, and something like that wouldn’t stop her. Maybe she just didn’t see him that way. Ugh. 

Steve stood up, saying something about going for a run. Apparently the stupid show was over. He stood and went to the sink to wash out the bowl, not just dropping it in the dishwasher like everyone else did. Overachiever. Clint narrowed his eyes and shot daggers into the back of Steve’s head as the blond left the room, even though he couldn’t see Clint. Maybe he would feel the prick of Clint’s stare on the back of his stupid perfect head.

“I know you’re there,” Tash said, not looking away from the TV as she flipped through the channels. Clint’s eyes shifted back to her and he let out a breath, his cover blown. 

“So?” He asked. 

“Wanna watch something?”

Oh, so now that Golden Boy is gone, you want me? Clint thought, even as he was sliding his way out of the vent. “Sure.”

“What are you in the mood for?” She asked, now turning to look at him. Those goddamn eyes, Clint thought as he walked towards her, going to the opposite side Steve had been on. 

“Zombies,” he said, sitting down. 

“Pft. You’re always in the mood for zombies.”

“That’s because zombies are always awesome.”

Tash rolled her eyes. “No, they’re illogical and over used.”

Clint gasped dramatically. “I don’t think I can even call you friend after that,” he said, swinging his legs up and landing them in Tash’s lap. She gave him her typical eyebrow raise, but didn’t comment other than that, plugging in letters to find a movie in Stark’s ridiculously large database.

Clint was glad for this, at least. Their easy camaraderie, born of hundreds of missions gone right and wrong. He had Tash, in a sense. Just not the way he wanted her. 

“Shaun of the Dead?” She asked.

“Is that even a question?” Clint asked, and settled further into the couch.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony = frustration. (and possibly more than he bargained for.)

Why couldn’t he have been born a woman? No, fuck that, he liked being a man. Why couldn’t Steve have been born loving dick?  


God. Fucking Steve. Well, that’s what Tony wishes he was doing. Preferably daily. In an array of creative positions.  


Tony sighed. It had to be the gender thing. There was no other reason for Steve not to like - actually, that wasn’t true, there were dozens upon dozens of reasons for Steve to not like Tony, gender being only one. And that had never stopped Tony before - he had turned many a man his direction during his life, and Steve was no different.  


No, Steve was different. Because Steve mattered.  


Tony groaned at the thought, letting his head hit his work table with a soft thump. The table was covered in blueprints for his latest project - a car. That could fly.  


Okay, so maybe Steve had made a passing comment about having expected flying cars by this point, especially with the prototype Howard had shown, and maybe Tony had suddenly had the intense urge to go into the lab and never come out until he had a working, flying car. Not for Steve, nope. No, just - just because.  


Not that it would actually DO anything for Tony - Steve was with someone else. Natasha. The scary-as-fuck half of the wonder twins (Clint hadn’t scared Tony since he found him passed out on the kitchen counter from too many vodka shots with Natasha, the latter still standing with a smirk on her face. Terrifying.) She was gorgeous and smart and frighteningly efficient at killing people and OF COURSE Steve liked her. It all made sense, they worked together and got along and were fucking heterosexual together.  


It made Tony sick.  


Okay, not sick, but really, really, really unhealthily jealous and piney for a grown man.

So here he was, working on a flying car for no reason at all, definitely not because Steve had mentioned it, nope. He hadn’t been out of the lab except for food in two days, though that wasn’t all unusual. He would have to get up soon to eat, his belly feeling annoyingly empty. 

“Captain Rogers is requesting entrance, sir,” JARVIS spoke up, and Tony swiveled in his chair. Steve was standing outside the door, holding two plates with what looked like sandwiches on them and had a sketch pad tucked under his ~~glorious beautiful perfect~~ arm. Tony smiled wide.

“Sure, J, let him in.”

The door whooshed open and Steve smiled at him.

“Can never turn away a man with food, Cap,” Tony said, making grabby hands at the plate. Steve rolled his eyes.

“That’s the only reason you let me move in - you knew I would feed you,” Steve said, handing over one of the plates.

“Well, not the ONLY reason, I mean, you also do the dishes and actually buy groceries - “ Tony started, spluttering to a stop when Steve smacked him lightly on the back of the head with his sketch pad. Chuckling, the blond walked over to the couch Tony had in the corner, mainly used for naps, but more recently Steve’s drawing space. 

Tony remembers the first time Steve ended up here, before they had formed this sort of comfortable silence between them. Tony had been fixing a repulsor from the last mission when the door swooshed open and Steve came in, eyes wide and breathing heavily.

_“Steve? What, what’s wrong?” Tony stood up, taking a step towards the soldier._

_Steve held out a hand, so Tony stopped, and the other man took a second catch his breath._

_“Sorry, I - never mind, it’s fine.” Steve turned to leave, but Tony was never one to take ‘never mind’ as an answer._

_“Whoa, whoa, Cap - you can’t burst in like that and then not explain yourself.”_

_“Please don’t, Tony, I’m fine. Sorry to interrupt.”_

_“Steve,” Tony said, now coming over to place a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Come on.”_

_Steve turned towards him, still not meeting his gaze._

_“I know - I know we’re not really friends, but you can talk to me,” Tony said, dropping his hand to scratch the back of his neck._

_“We are friends, Tony, it’s just - embarrassing.”_

_“Shoot,” Tony said, ignoring the little flare when Steve said they were friends_

_“Nobody else is here,” Steve started, sighing, and covered his eyes. Tony now noticed the sketch pad in his hands, pencil marks bruising his fingers._

_“O--kay?” Tony said, not knowing what Steve was getting at._

_“I - I fell asleep. In the common room. I was sketching and - I fell asleep. Clint and Natasha were there, and then when I woke up they were gone, and Bruce wasn’t in his rooms, and Thor is never here, so I started to panic. I just - I hate being alone when I first wake up. It reminds me -”_

_“Oh,” Tony said, figuring it out. It must have reminded Steve of the first time he woke up, and that made Tony’s insides hurt._

_“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just -”_

_“No! No bother at all! Please, sit down. The couch over there, or I can move this stuff -” Tony started pushing the heaps of wiring and tools off of his work bench, but was stopped by a warm hand on his wrist._

_“No, it’s fine. I’ll just...sit on the couch? If that’s okay?” Tony looked into Steve’s blue eyes and got the breath knocked out of him for the first time._

_“Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever you’d like, Cap. And - you know you can ask JARVIS who’s in the tower, right?”_

_Steve frowned. “How?”_

_“Just, here. Ey, J? Who is currently here and where are they located? Only the important people, of course.” Tony said, looking at the ceiling out of habit rather than necessity._

_“By my calculations, sir, the only people of importance to you that are currently within my sensors are yourself and Captain Rogers, both located in the primary workshop.”_

_“Thank you JARVIS.”_

_“My pleasure, sir,” the AI replied, and Steve smiled, a little bit of awe on his face._

_“That’s - that’s amazing. Okay.”_

And that’s how Steve started coming down to Tony’s shop, with increasing frequency, until it was almost once a day. And that’s how Tony started staring. And oogling. And getting - getting FEELINGS. Tony hated when the feelings got involved, couldn’t it just be how someone LOOKED instead of the way they talked or moved their hands or the sound of their voice or their terrible taste in movies or the way they made scrambled eggs - 

“Tony? You okay?”

Tony was shook out of his mental reverence for Steve’s ability to do menial tasks (when had THAT become a thing?) and realized he had been staring his friend down.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking. Thanks for the food,” Tony said, taking a huge bite to make sure he didn’t say anything stupid. Like _you’re gorgeous,_ or _I am totally in love with you._

Love? LOVE? _Nooooo,_ Tony reprimanded his renegade thoughts. No. Nope. Not that. Anything but that. 

But when he looked back over at Steve, he momentarily wondered if maybe his subconscious knew something he didn’t. 

_Shit._


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Spangles and Red Death have entered the premises.”
> 
> “Stark. Stick to the book or I will stick the book somewhere that will make you uncomfortable.”
> 
> (Or the one where everything goes to shit.)

“Spangles and Red Death have entered the premises.”

“Stark. Stick to the book or I will stick the book somewhere that will make you uncomfortable.”

Tony huffed a breath out at Agent Hill, mumbling something about being a fun-sucker. She glared at him, and he shut up.

Steve and Natasha were on an undercover mission in D.C, attending some swanky ball (that Tony could have thrown 100 times better) to try and corner a corrupt politician or something. Tony was fuzzy on the details because he hadn’t been actually paying attention during the pre-mission briefing because Steve had been wearing That Goddamn Tuxedo. Damn that thing. Plus, Tony had been benched for this particular mission, ~~forced~~ asked to work surveillance with Agent Hill, who was charming as ever. And of course, no one in their right mind would let Tony go undercover at a black tie event again after what happened last time.

So here he was, sitting in a van two blocks over, staring at the three screens that were trained on the party guests, both eyes following Steve like a hawk. Haha. Speaking of hawk….

“Hey, Birdbrain, what’s your 20?”

“Stark,” Hill warned, but he didn’t correct himself. 

“Right where I’m supposed to be, Tin Can,” Clint shot back, sitting on the roof of the building adjacent to the party, his gaze fixed on Tash through the gigantic, unnecessary windows. “Covering our team’s asses.”

“And what nice asses they are,” Tony said.

“I can hear you, you know,” Tash said softly, and Steve smiled at her. _Gross,_ Tony found himself thinking, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from that beautiful smile. And That Goddamn Tuxedo even looked good over the shitty cameras they were using for surveillance. Really, you’d think with SHIELD’s top-secret priority business and the amount of money Tony was funnelling into their program, they’d have better cameras. Tony had said as much to Fury on multiple occasions, only to be shot down with one cutting glare from his single eyeball.

“Target spotted,” Hill said, and it was a good thing she was watching, because Tony wasn’t paying any attention. Again. 

“Affirmative,” Clint said. “On your left, 8 o clock, Widow.”

Tash turned slightly, and Clint had to force his breathing to remain normal as he caught sight of her backless dress. _Fuck._

The politician guy was dancing on the floor, about 15 feet from Steve and Tash. “Confirmed,” Steve said, and placed his glass of champagne on the table behind them. He held his hand out to Natasha, and she accepted, putting her glass on a passing tray. They swept together, melting into the dancing crowd with ease. Tony found himself smiling accidentally, but he didn’t say anything. Steve hadn’t known how to dance at all before, and Tony had found out by mistake at last year’s New Year’s Eve party.

Tony had been mostly sober and asked Steve to dance as a mostly joke. He hadn’t expected the good Captain to twist his lips into a self-deprecating smile and look down. 

“I don’t know how to dance,” Steve said, and Tony, using his liquid courage to his advantage, wrapped Steve’s (huge, glorious, warm) hands around his waist and started teaching the waltz backwards. Steve picked it up quite quickly, which was no surprise, and was even able to pull off a decent spin by the time the ball dropped at midnight. 

“I’m impressed you can teach so well drunk,” Steve had said, and Tony had wanted so badly to lean in and kiss Steve’s (perfect, full, delicious) lips, but he had just laughed instead, not quite gone enough to try something like that. 

Apparently, Steve had been practicing since then, as he took to the dancefloor like a seasoned pro, even daring to dip Natasha low to the ground. Tony scowled. 

Clint frowned even deeper than before (if that was possible) when Tash laughed - LAUGHED - after Steve dipped her. Ugh. They were disgusting and perfect. Steve dropped his hands, bowing to Tash as the song ended. They had been showing off, flaunting a little to get the target’s attention and it worked - the guy approached Tash as soon as Steve moved away. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame...not that Clint could blame him. Clint kept making himself look away, checking the exits, watching for potential threats - but his eyes always found her again. 

The politician guy held his hand out, asking for a dance, and Tash smiled at him. Her fake smile, the one Clint hated the most. It was worse than her scowl, because at least the scowl was real. 

Steve watched on the sidelines, and Tony watched him as almost half a dozen women slowly walked past him, in succession, almost like a parade. They all gave him meaningful, expected glances, but he didn’t so much as look at them twice, his eyes still on Natasha and Senator Douche. Stupid perfect loyal heterosexual Steve. He was totally dating Natasha. He had to be.

Natasha was interrogating the guy without him realizing it, dropping hints, asking seemingly innocent questions, making him laugh - Clint almost growled. “This is gonna be some good dirt,” he whispered. 

“Shut it, Hawkeye,” Hill said. Tony laughed, and Clint was almost sure he saw Tash’s lips twitch. 

“Okay, not to break up the party?” Tony started. “But Baldy McBeefcake over there is watching you guys.” He pointed at the screen for Hill to see. Clint’s eyes wandered, quickly spotting the man in question. 

“Good description, Tin Can, I’ll be sure to write that in my paperwork,” Clint said. 

“Oh, you do paperwork now?” Steve asked, and Tony smirked.

“Hawkeye, is he a threat?” Agent Hill asked, completely ignoring their antics.

“Well, I mean, he looks like a cross between Frankenstein’s monster and George W Bush, but he doesn’t look that suspicious. Maybe that’s just his face.” He could hear Tony muffle a laugh, and watched Tash’s lips quirked up again. 

“Keep an eye on him,” Hill said.

“Aye aye.”

The song ended, and the politician dancing with Tash bowed, asked a question, and she shook her head with a smile, returning to Steve’s side. They started dancing together again.

“Did you get what you needed?” He asked her.

“I got enough - I’ll have to go back through the recording because SOMEONE was trying to be funny,” she said, raising an eyebrow meaningfully towards the window.  
Clint smiled. “Hey, I gotta entertain myself somehow. This roof is boring.”

“So is this van,” Tony added.

“What, you mean you’re not having a party with Agent Hill? She’s a bucket of laughs,” Steve said, and Tony turned to find Agent Hill _smiling,_ for Christ’s sake. Of course Steve was the only one who could get the woman to emote. 

“Uh, guys, remember when Tin Can was worried about the guy with a foot for a face? Well he may have possibly been right.”

Cline shifted on the roof, watching the bald guy, who was now talking with their target. He pointed towards Steve and Tash, and the politician frowned, turning, trying to find them in the crowd.

“Can you make an exit without drawing attention?” Hill asked, back to business.

“Negative,” Natasha said.

“Well you gotta do something, Senator Douche looks pissed,” Tony said. “Create a distraction.”

“Like what?” Steve asked, eyes searching the room. 

“Captain, relax, now you look stiff,” Hill said.

“I do?” He asked at the same time Tony said, “No he doesn’t.”

“Relax,” Natasha said. 

“That guy seems mighty interested in you, Widow,” Clint said, eyes narrowed. “He and Senator Douchcake are still talking. Do you think he recognizes you?”

“I did do some work in D.C.,” Tash murmured, her face still smiling but her eyes tight.

“Cap, can you move out of their eyeline naturally?” Tony asked.

“Uh, negative,” Steve said, looking over Natasha’s shoulder. “Too many dancers, not enough obstacles.”

“You have to hide her face somehow,” Hill said, watching the two men. 

“How?”  
“I don’t know,” Tony said, looking over at Hill. Her brow was furrowed in thought.

“Kiss her,” she said, after a moment. Tony choked on his next breath and Clint froze.

“What?” Steve asked, still dancing, but now looking down at Natasha in confusion. 

“Kiss her, make it look real, heat it up, and then leave. It’s clean and natural and needs to happen now,” Agent Hill said, and Tony stared at the screen in horror.

“Wiill - will that work?” Steve asked.

Tash smiled - SMILED - at him, rolled her eyes, said, “Relax, Cap, and closed the distance between them.

It was like watching a car accident. Clint and Tony both were transfixed, not wanting to watch but not able to look away. Tony exhaled loudly and Clint only remained silent because he had been trained to. Tash had not taken the ‘heat it up,’ suggestion lightly, and was now frenching with Steve in the middle of the ballroom. Clint wanted to throw up.

Tony wasn’t feeling so good either, but was also a little turned on. Okay, a lot turned on, _why the hell is watching someone you are into kiss someone else so goddamn hot?_ He asked himself. He didn’t have an answer, but couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen. Watching Steve kiss someone else was torture, pain, utterly devastating...and probably the the sexiest thing he’d ever witnessed. “Goddamn,” he said under his breath.

Clint was screaming inside his head. _Damn it. Fucking hell. Shit balls,_ he thought to himself. There were so fucking perfect and if they weren’t dating before, they certainly were now because that was definitely a bedroom kiss right there. 

Tash finally pulled back, gave Steve a suggestive smile, and laced their fingers together, pulling him from the dancefloor. The politician and his crap-faced bodyguard lost sight of them and didn’t follow.

“Any pursuit?” Steve asked, and Clint scowled at his voice.

“Negative,” he answered.

“Nice cover,” Agent Hill said. Tony wanted to punch something. “We’ll be at the pickup in approximately 4 minutes.”

“Affirmative,” Steve said. Hill started the van and pulled out onto the street. “Hawkeye, meet us there.”

“On my way,” Clint said, already halfway down the building, cursing Steve Rogers’ name with every step. 

When they were all back in the van, both Clint and Tony were uncharacteristically silent. Steve was going over what Natasha had gathered from the target, but their conversation slowly sputtered off as they noticed the tension in the air. Clint was playing with one of his arrow heads and Tony was staring at the floor. 

“What’s with you two?” Steve asked, and Natasha raised an eyebrow, which was as good as a question with her. 

“Nothin,” Tony said, leaning back and putting on what Steve referred to as his ‘Interview Smile.’ Tony had learned long ago how to put up a front for the press, a fake smile and a laugh to distract people from the bad stuff. Steve frowned. He hated that smile. It was so - so NOT Tony. 

Steve looked over to Nat, who was staring at Clint, who hadn’t bothered to answer the query. Her eyes were suspicious, which made Steve feel better - at least he wasn’t the only one thinking something was wrong.

They spent the rest of the trip in uncomfortable silence, so strange and awkward that Agent Hill flipped the radio on, which she had never done before. When they pulled up to the tower, Clint was out like a shot, Tony not far behind. Nat climbed out, lifting the hem of her skirt, and Steve followed her, saying goodbye to Hill and shutting the door. 

“What’s up with them?” Steve asked, offering his arm to Nat. She took it. 

“I don’t know, and that really worries me,” she said. They rode the elevator quietly, both thinking. Steve bid her goodnight at her floor, and then hesitated, wondering whether or not he should check on Tony.

“Jarvis?” He asked.

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Where is Tony?”

“Sir is on his personal floor with Agent Barton.”

_Well, at least he’s not alone,_ Steve thought, deciding not to interrupt. “Thank you, Jarvis.”

“Of course, Captain.”


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Clint confess their feelings about Steve and Natasha, and then drown their sorrows.

Tony had gotten out of that fucking van as soon as he possibly could, but Clint had been faster. They ended up on the elevator together, though, the turse silence continuing over from the ride over. 

“I have some fantastic scotch upstairs. 3 bottles of it,” Tony said, staring ahead.

“Sure,” Clint said, and they both got off when Jarvis opened the door on Tony’s floor. They headed straight to the bar, and were almost through the first bottle before either of them spoke.

“Fuck, man,” Tony said, and slammed his empty glass down for the fourth time. “Fucking fuckballs.”

“I KNOW, I know,” Clint said, shaking his head. The two of them had never specifically talked about this, their mutual problem of sorts. Not having who they wanted. Clint didn’t know when he had realized Tony knew, or when he had figured out Tony’s thing for Steve, but somehow they had both found out and been silent comrades for a while now. 

“This shit is gonna kill me,” Tony said.

“What, the booze or - or THEM,” Clint said, pouring more into his glass.

“Mr. and Mrs. All American Assassins. No. If this stuff was gonna kill me, it would have already. THEM. They. They will be the death of me.” Tony grabbed the bottle and emptied it into his glass. “How did this happen to me?” He asked, staring down at the table for answers.

“You? What about me?”

“Us! Us! Fine. How the hell did we get into this mess?” Tony corrected, waving his hands.

“I hate this. I hate her!” Clint said, still angry from before. He took another drink and turned, sliding to the floor with his back to the kitchen island. “No I don’t,” he said. “I really, really don’t.”

Tony slid down next to him, the next bottle under his arm. “When did you know?” He asked softly. Clint didn’t need clarification, but he also didn’t really know how to respond.

“I -” he started, then paused. “It wasn’t just one moment. It was moment after moment on top of each other. The way she almost smiles when I say something stupid. Or - her hair in the sun. The eyebrow thing. I just kept waking up and it kept getting better - or worse, whatever, stronger somehow. I love her face and laugh and arms and eyes and ankles.”

“Her ANKLES?” Tony asked, pausing in pouring alcohol into his mouth.

“Yes, fuck you, her ankles. Have you ever really looked at them? The fucking sexiest things ever.”

“Nope, nope, definitely arms. Steve’s arms are the sexiest things ever. I want them. Around me. And his hands - fuck - they’re HUGE. I want them too. In my hair. On my chest. Around my di-”

“BRO! I do NOT need details, Jesus,” Clint said, grabbing the bottle from Tony. 

“It’s not just that, though,” Tony said, covering his face with his hands. “I wish it was. I really wish it was just that.” He stopped, and Clint handed the bottle back. “I think - I think I’ve got the _feelings._ ”

Clint started laughing, and Tony glared at him.

“Shut the fuck up, man,” he said angrily.

“Sorry, sorry, you just sound like an 8-year old afraid of cooties.”

“Ey, cooties ain’t no joke, we just started calling them STDs once we hit puberty.”

Clint rolled his eyes.

“ANYway,” Tony said. “I think I have _feelings_ and that’s terrible. That’s the worst thing to ever happen.”

“It makes it so much worse, I know,” Clint said.

They were quiet for a moment, and Tony slid further down on the floor until he was laying flat, staring at the ceiling. 

“When did you know about your _feelings?_ ” Clint asked, and Tony huffed, then grinned despite himself.

“You’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

“Bullshit I’m not,” Clint responded immediately, exactly as Tony was expecting him to.

“I knew it. Fine. Laugh. I don’t give two shits. Or one shit. No shits.”

“Fine, no shits, fucking tell me,” Clint said, kicking him lightly in the arm. Tony half-heartedly waved at his foot.

“Okay, okay. He was drawing in the common room, on the couch where he always is. You know. And - and he never lets me look until they’re finished, right? Even though I want to, and so he was drawing and I asked what. And then Thor came in - this was like, last month? When he was here? Thor came in wearing this stupid pink button down shirt with a collar. And I was like, you look like He-Man. You know, the meme thing that was going around with the song and shit. He-Man. And Steve looks up with this FACE - the puppy face thing he does, and SMILES at me like the goddamn sun, and points at me and starts fucking SINGING THE SONG from that God-awful video - he knows the fucking song, someone showed it to him and he knew the fucking words and Thor is standing there all confused, asking what a He-Man is and I’m staring at Steve like an idiot and then I start laughing and I can’t stop and then I almost said I love you outloud right then and there but I stopped myself because - well. You know. But that’s when I knew, that’s when I first knew, when he fucking knew the words to Hey Yea Yea from that stupid video.”

“That’s - that’s not as bad as I was expecting,” Clint said.

“Yeah, well.”

They sat in the quiet together, neither having anything else to say. The companionable wallowing was nice, though. _Misery loves company,_ Tony thought to himself. 

“I’ve gotta sleep,” Clint said after a while, attempting to stand. After three tries, he finally did, and held a hand out to help Tony up. It took a minute or two.

“Thanks for - yeah,” Clint said, waving in Tony’s direction.

“Well, wallowing in self-pity is always more fun when it’s a shared experience,” Tony said, grinning.

“Shut up,” Clint said, but he was smiling too.

“Go to sleep,” Tony pointed at the elevator.

“Fuck you, _mom,_ ” Clint said, but was already headed that direction.

“And don’t you stay up watching porn all night.”

“I do what I want,” Clint said, stepping into the elevator.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man,” Tony said, still grinning, leaning against the counter. “You’re grounded for a week!”

“I’ll run away!”

“Good! I’ll spend so much less on groceries!”

Tony could hear Clint’s laugh echo as the elevator doors closed. It had felt all right there, for a moment, talking with Clint. But now - now he was alone again. Now he felt like shit again.

“Jarvis, how much more do I need to drink before I pass out?”

“Based upon previous data, sir, you will need to ingest at least another 20 ounces of your current beverage to fall unconscious. However, I do not recommend that -”

“Mute,” Tony said, interrupting his well-meaning AI. 20 ounces it was.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets taken care of and taken by surprise.

Tony was awoken by a blinding light. 

“AAh! My retinae!” He said, rolling over onto his stomach. He cracked open his eyes again and saw a pair of feet encased in dark blue socks right in front of his face. 

“Caaaaap. Steeeeve. Steve the star spangled man with a plan.” He reached out a grabbed one of the feet, and Steve wiggled his toes. “Steve, Steve, did you turn on the lights?” Tony realized he must still be drunk, so he hadn’t been passed out for all that long. 

“Yes, it was almost pitch black in here,” Steve said.

“Steve, why do you like to hurt me?” Tony asked, pressing his nose into the cold floor. He heard Steve laugh above him, before he was suddenly being picked up and carried, bridal-style, against Steve’s chest. He tried to push away but Steve made a disapproving sound and gave him a pointed look. 

“I can walk, Stevieo,” Tony said, pushing again.

“I don’t think I should believe you,” Steve replied and tightened his hold. He flicked the light off to the shop with his left hand, never letting Tony go as they walked out the door. 

“You know you can tell Jarvis to turn those off,” Tony said, and absolutely did NOT nuzzle into Steve’s gorgeous, perfect, muscley pecs. 

“How much did you have to drink?”

“64.3 ounces,” Tony fired off.

“Bullshit,” Steve scoffed. “You don’t have any idea, do you?”

Tony made an angry noise and a face to match in lieu of answering, not liking that they had gotten to the point where he knew the difference between a quick answer because Tony actually knew, or a quick answer because Tony didn’t know. 

“It was CLOSE to that, okay? 2 bottles? 3? Clint helped.”

“Well he was smart and went to bed. You passed out on the floor. You’re still drunk now. It’s like 2AM.”

“Am not still drunk,” Tony said, though he totally was. There were suddenly in front of Tony’s door, and the it swished open without complaint.

“Jarvis! You aren’t supposed to let anyone in!” Tony said, trying to push away from Steve again.

“I merely was letting _you_ in, sir, the captain just happened to be carrying you,” the AI replied. Steve smiled at the ceiling.

“Smartass,” Tony said under his breath, and Steve chuckled. Tony could feel the vibration through his chest, and he abso _lute_ ly did not lean into it. 

Tony was then on his bed, and Steve was propping him up on the pillows and pulling his shoes off. He put the shoes beside the bed and looked at Tony for a second, some emotion on his face that Tony couldn’t figure out while this inebriated. Steve reached over and brushed a piece of hair off Tony’s forehead, and Tony was hit with a wave of _want,_ and then a wave of realization that Steve was about to leave. He reached up and grabbed Steve’s wrist as he was pulling away, a shot of fear coursing through him. Steve’s face scrunched in confusion.

“Tony? What’s wr-”

“Don’t - don’t leave,” Tony said softly. Steve eyes widened, not expecting that, Tony was sure. And shit. He had just made this weird. 

Steve pulled away then, and this time Tony didn’t try and stop him, leaning back into the pillows and ferociously fighting the tears threatening to cloud his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even know exactly what was wrong, but the idea of being alone right now was terrifying. 

He felt the bed dip as Steve stood up to leave, and the lights flicked off. He almost said something about Jarvis being able to turn the lights off in here too, but decided not to push his luck. He curled over on his side as the door clicked shut. 

Now that he was alone, he let out the long breath he had been holding in, but it came out more like a sob. He - he hadn’t cried in ages, and didn’t want to now. He hated it. He didn’t even know why he NEEDED to cry. This day had been emotionally exhausting and the pleasant buzz from the alcohol was wearing down to a hollow feeling of need and loneliness. Tony hated this part, hated coming down from it, but if he drank more, Jarvis would tattle on him to Steve. Steve.... He frowned at that, sighing deeply. 

He almost yelped in surprise when he was grabbed from behind and wrapped in two warm, muscular arms. He was dragged across the king-size mattress and against Steve’s chest, his heartbeat steady through his t-shirt. Tony froze, and Steve froze, and Tony didn’t know what to do, but Steve was so warm and comfortable and - Tony felt himself start to relax, and leaned back into Steve’s chest. 

“I thought you left,” Tony said quietly.

“I - I can leave, if - I thought you said -”

“NO! No. No,” Tony said, pulling Steve’s arms closer, pushing back a little, hoping it could just be passed off as drunken idiocy. 

“Okay,” Steve said, and Tony could hear his smile. He smiled too, and sighed out in contentment, and suddenly his eyelids were really heavy and -

Steve shifted his head a little closer to Tony, feeling his hair tickle his nose a little, and couldn’t help the grin that split his face when Tony sighed again and tightened his hold. He could quite possibly stay here forever. Tony was finally relaxed (albeit, still vaguely drunk), and it was the first time he had really let Steve get this close. Steve didn’t know if it would ever happen again, so he held on, hoping the memory would last longer than the night.

 

\---------------------------

 

_Fuck,_ was Tony’s first thought the next morning. 

He could feel someone’s arms around him, and they were guy arms, big arms, and he didn’t remember bringing anyone home last night, or leaving the Tower for that matter, so who the fuck was here in bed?

He turned his head slightly, and caught a glimpse of golden hair. 

_That looks like Steve’s hair. Steve. STEVE. OH SHIT OH FUCKING GODDAMN SHIT STEVE STEVE STEVE IS IN MY BED SPOONING SPOONING HE’S A SPOONER WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO ___

__Tony’s brain started going into overdrive but he was trying to keep his body very, very still._ _

__“I can feel you thinking,” came Steve’s voice behind him,and he started._ _

__“Uhhh, sorry, I just - yeah.”_ _

__“You okay?” Steve pulled his arm out from underneath Tony, but kept the one wrapped around Tony’s middle where it was._ _

__“Yeah, yeah, yeah, fine, yes, totally. Yes.”_ _

__“Say it one more time, and I’ll believe you.”_ _

__Tony smirked despite his anxiousness and turned his head to look up at Steve, who was now leaning over to see him._ _

__“Need some aspirin or something?” Steve asked._ _

__“Ugh. Yes.”_ _

__Tony then regretted saying that because Steve’s arm was gone and then Steve stood up and went into the bathroom. There was a strange sort of war happening in his mind where he desperately wanted Steve to come back but also wanted him to _get the fuck out of here_ so Tony could have a good, old-fashioned panic attack about _Captain America spooning him.__ _

__“Do you remember last night at all?” Steve asked from the bathroom. Tony’s heart rate spiked, suddenly worried he had done/said/tried something stupid, because that was TOTALLY a possibility._ _

__“Uh, yes? I remember the - the dance thing. And the van. And Clint and I drinking. A lot. And then…”_ _

__“Then?” Steve said, smirking as he handed over a few pills. Tony took them silently, sipping on the water that Steve had also handed over._ _

__“Then it’s fuzzy? I - I remember you showing up and demanding - rudely - that I stop drinking, and then I woke up here? With you?” He phrased it like a question, glancing up at Steve, hoping he could fill in the holes. Steve was inexplicably smiling down at him, almost tenderly._ _

__“What?” Tony said, suddenly self-conscious. He curled up his arms and covered his face with his hands, sighing. His head hurt and he was embarrassed and it was _weird,_ okay, because Tony Stark didn’t get embarrassed, Tony Stark was all smooth and suave and witty rapport, but something about this gorgeous blond beam of sunshine masquerading as a person in front of him made his insides churn and his brain hardwire itself into a mass of unintelligible phrases and stupid jokes. _ _

__“Did I do something? I didn’t - I didn’t _say_ anything did I?” He mumbled into his fingers.  
Steve huffed something like a laugh and then was pulling Tony’s hands away from his face. _ _

__“Are you embarrassed right now? Is this really happening? I should call a press conference, Tony Stark, ladies and gents, actually does get embarrassed!”_ _

__“Shut up,” Tony mumbled, but there was no real anger in his voice. He found himself smiling stupidly back at Steve, and he just couldn’t handle it anymore. It felt so NATURAL to be with him, so normal, so perfect._ _

__“Steve, I wanted to -”_ _

__There was a ding, and Steve looked down at the table next to Tony’s bed. Steve’s cell phone was lit up with a text message. He looked back up at Tony._ _

__“No, no, it’s fine, go ahead,” Tony said, waving his hands at Steve’s unasked question. Steve picked up the phone and frowned at it, then flicked his eyes back up to Tony’s._ _

__“I forgot I had breakfast plans with Nat. She’s waiting - but I don’t want to leave -”_ _

__“Oh, psh, I’ll be fine. Really. I feel much better.” Tony looked down at his lap, trying to ignore the feeling that his chest was sinking in. _ _Right. Natasha. How could you be so stupid?___ _

__“Tony, are you sure? It’s just Nat, I could -”_ _

__“No, actually, I’ve got - stuff to do. Don’t worry about me.”_ _

__Steve hesitated again._ _

__“I actually was gonna go train with Clint. He promised to show me some archery tricks, like I’ll ever use them, but you know how he gets with a bow. He’ll never stop pestering me til I try, and I always give in eventually.” Tony was making shit up now. Just anything to get Steve out of here so he could mope in peace._ _

__“Uh, okay. I didn’t - yeah, sure. I’ll get going then. You’re sure you’re okay?” Steve asked again, standing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand._ _

__“Yes, Steve, fine, go,” Tony said, probably sounding more hostile than he should have. Worry shot through Steve’s eyes again, but he turned, and half-waved before the door shut behind him._ _

__“Ugh!” Tony said, and threw himself down on the bed. “Why?!”_ _

__“I assume you’re being hypothetical again, sir, though I do have several suggestions if you were serious.”_ _

__“Shut it, Jarvis.” Tony sighed. “Just - leave me alone.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been updating - lots of shit it happening. I still will continue this story, I love it, and I've gotten some great ideas. Sorry sorry sorry ugh.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assumptions are made by lots of people, and emotions start flying. The tensions are rising...

Natasha stopped in her tracks as she entered the gym, coming down to work out after her breakfast with Steve. She liked having breakfast with Steve - he was surprisingly witty and had quickly become one of her closest and most trusted friends. What made her freeze in the doorway, though, was the sight of Clint pinning Tony down on a mat, both of them covered in sweat, Clint’s forehead resting on Tony’s shoulder as they both started to laugh. It was - intimate, or it seemed that way, and the sight of Clint so close to Tony made Natasha’s insides turn slightly. It looked like they had been sparring, but it also looked kind of like foreplay. Natasha’s brow creased at that thought, unbidden, leaping from the corner of her mind. Just because SHE had thought of jumping Clint’s bones every time the two of them sparred didn’t automatically mean everyone did that. 

Not wanting to interrupt...whatever was going on, she did what she did best - leave silently and unnoticed. Apparently she’d have to train later. 

The image wouldn’t leave her mind, though, even after she went out to run errands, rearranged her furniture, crept back into the gym and worked out, did some of her SHIELD paperwork Pepper had been bugging her about, and watched TV. She couldn’t get the sight up Clint on top of Tony out of her head and it was making her uneasy and just a little crazy.

It got even worse when they walked into the common floor together, Clint poking Tony in the side and Tony leaping away, laughing. It was supposed to be a team dinner night, though Bruce wasn’t in the tower - Steve was cooking, and Natasha had been pseudo-helping him. 

He noticed Natasha twitch when Clint and Tony walked in, and turned to look at her, eyebrows raised in question. She had been weird all day. 

“Whatcha cookin, Cap?” Clint asked, leaning in over the stove. Steve was stirring a pot of pasta, the sauce bubbling in another pan. 

“Just pasta, nothing too fancy.”

“Fancy, schmancy,” Clint said, reaching around Natasha to open the fridge. She glared at him, and he frowned, opening his mouth to ask what the look was for, but she turned away and stalked over to the table. 

“How was archery lessons?” Steve turned to ask Tony. Tony glanced at him, frowned, then remembered what he had said this morning.

“Archery lessons? Is that what we were doing?” Clint smirked at him and Tony rolled his eyes. Steve suddenly felt uncomfortable. 

“Well, that’s what I thought. But then we just sparred a little. How was breakfast?” Tony asked, flipping through a magazine on the kitchen island, not making eye contact. 

Natasha shot a look at him, and then at Steve. Steve shrugged. “Fine, thanks.”

The four of them sat down at the table. It was awkward, and no one really knew why. The conversation was stilted, nobody really talking except to ask someone to pass something or mention SHIELD news or the _weather_ for God’s sakes. Eventually, Tony couldn’t stand it anymore, pretending to be okay and pretending not to see the looks Steve and Natasha were sharing and pretending not to see the glared Clint kept shooting him. He stood, abruptly, cutting someone off, probably Steve, oops, and made some excuse about his suits, and took the elevator down. 

It took exactly 7 minutes and 36 seconds (not that Tony was counting) for the soft ping to announce someone at the workshop door requesting entrance. 

“Jarvis?”

“Captain Rogers, sir.”

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“Of course, sir.”

There was a brief moment of peace, and then Tony turned towards the glass wall to see Steve staring at him, concern all over his face. Tony almost scoffed. He waved in a dismissive gesture and turned back to his workbench, grabbing his welding mask and blowtorch in a last-ditch effort to look like her was doing something. He spent a moment heating bits of metal on the table before Jarvis spoke again.

“The Captain has left, sir, if you were done pretending to work on something.”

“I should have never built sarcasm into your matrix,” Tony grumbled, and the silence Jarvis left him in felt smug, somehow.

 

\---------------

Steve sighed audibly. Again. Natasha rolled her eyes behind her magazine, refusing to glance at him. Again.

They were sitting at the table in the common area, pissing away the half hour before their show started. It had been a few days since the - incident - as Natasha had been calling it in her head, with Tony and Clint. She hadn’t said anything to Steve, but the archer and genius had been together a LOT in the last few days and it was grating on Natasha’s nerves. Not that she would say anything. But still.

Steve sighed again.

“What, Steve? What?” She dropped the magazine, and glared at him.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Not with your vocal chords, yeah.”

“Okay, so?”

“So? So what? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, I -”

“Oh don’t pull that bullshit on me.” She slid the magazine away from her and flexed her fingers over the tabletop. “What?”

Steve put down his sketchbook and pursed his lips. 

“I -” he started, and sighed again.

“I swear to God if you sigh one more times I will kill you. Don’t think I don’t know at least 6 ways to do it with just your pencil.”

“Shut up, Nat. Just - have you noticed that… Clint and - and Tony are spending a lot of time together? Recently?”

Natasha felt her eyebrow twitch, and she mentally cursed her inability to keep a straight face around Steve. He was one of the three people she let her mask down around. 

“See? It’s not just me. They seem..close,” Steve said, twirling his pencil. Natasha didn’t respond, her mind flashing back to the scene with Clint on top of Tony, laughing in the gym. She had replayed that moment over and over, torturing herself with it, even though she wasn’t sure what had been going on. At one moment she was sure it was nothing, and then the next she was sure there had been something. 

“Don’t you think so?” 

Steve looked at her questioningly, and she sighed. Steve smiled at her, pointing the pencil accusingly. She blew at her bangs in faux-annoyance, smiling back. 

“I saw them together.” Steve’s eyes widened. “Not! Not _together  
_ together, they were sparring - I think. And laughing. It looked like something. But it could have been nothing.”

“When was this?”

“Remember that really awkward and slightly awful dinner we had the other day?”

“Oh. I thought they were acting weird.”

They settled back into silence, both in their own thoughts. 

\------------------------------

“What are you doing?”

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin, leaping around to face the intruder - Clint, as it turned out to be, smirking like an idiot. 

“Jesus! What the hell, Clint. How did you get in here?” He glanced suspiciously at the ceiling. “Jarvis, how did he get in here?”

“Apologies, sir, I did not realize Agent Barton’s access was restricted.”

“You little shit,” Tony said, pointing at Clint. “You’ve turned my technology against me.”

Clint just grinned wider, and then tried to peek over Tony’s shoulder. “What are you doing, Stark?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Working. Go away,” Tony said, valiantly trying to cover up the screen he had just been staring at. Clint turned over to his other shoulder and then eventually just pushed Tony to the side, twisting his arm so he couldn't get in the way. 

“OW! You fuckhead, let me go!”

“What - wait. What is this?” Clint stopped, letting go of Tony to look at the screen. It was what seems to be security footage of the common area - 

“Is this live? Are you CREEPIN, Tony??”

Tasha and Steve were sitting at the table, Tasha flipping through a magazine and Steve was doodling in his stupid notebook like he always was. Clint frowned automatically at seeing them together. 

“You are totally spying on them. What happened to Tower Confidentiality, hm?”

Tony glared, pulling his shirt back into place, brushing off invisible specks of dust. “Hey. There was no contract. No REAL contract. Nobody signed anything. AND this is the first time I have ever abused that power - okay, the second time but only in the common room! Never anywhere else! I wouldn’t do that. Just - I just wanted to see what they were doing.”

“Do you have audio?” Clint asked.

“Well. Technically, yes, but I - I feel weird about that. I haven’t listened. I’m kind of paranoid that I’ll hear something all romantic and full of bullshit and heterosexual perfection.”

“Ha. Good plan.”

Tony looked at Clint suspiciously. “Why? Do YOU want to - listen to them?”

Clint raised his eyebrows, turned to Tony, and then turned back to the screen without saying anything.

“Okay, okay, well. I mean. I can - uh. Turn it on?”

Clint didn’t answer again, just turned and looked at Tony expectantly, biting the inside of his thumb.

Tony leaned over to the side of the screen and flipped a switch, and a tinny version of Steve’s voice started filling the workshop.

_”So...do you think something’s going on between them? Or not?”_ Steve asked.

Natasha shifted but didn’t respond.

_”I mean. Does he even like guys?”_

Even through the screen, Clint and Tony could feel the pain of the Natasha “you have got to be shitting me” look. Steve started, and then looked confused.

_”Wait, he DOES? I didn’t know that. How did you know that?”_

_“First off, I studied the man for months. Secondly, he flirts with guys.”_

_“He flirts with EVERYONE. That doesn’t mean anything.”_

_“He wouldn’t flirt if he didn’t mean it.”_

Steve looked at her sharply.

_”But he flirts with **me**.”_

Cue another shockingly sarcastic look from Natasha and Clint shooting Tony a suspicious look, making Tony’s heart pick up a little bit and the nagging feeling in the back of head become all too real.

_”Nat - come on, he doesn’t like me. He - he can’t.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Even if he does, which I am sure isn’t true, why didn’t you say something earlier? If you suspected? You know how I feel about him, I - ”_

Tony sucked in a breath and then turned off the audio in one quick motion.

“What?! What the fuck, man, turn it back on - what is your problem -” Clint grabbed Tony’s arm and they struggled for access to the side of the screen.

“No! No, we are invading privacy and -”

“And it was just getting good, I cannot BELIEVE you don’t want to know what he’s SAYING -”

“NO! CLINT! DON’T I swear to God -”

Tony ended up on the ground underneath Clint’s ass, Clint pinning him down effectively. Damn fucking ninja assassin skills. Clint flipped the switch on the screen and Natasha’s voice cut back in.

_”I think you should just buck up and ask him. Ask him if something is going on with Clint and then -”_

_“Tell other interested parties?”_ Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow. Natasha bit her lip and Clint was distracted for a moment, but not enough to forget that they were suddenly were talking about HIM. 

_”Perhaps. Your choice.”_

_“Nat, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you -”_

The screen went black, Tony holding some sort of remote. He had gotten out from under Clint somehow, and had shut the whole thing down. 

“Stark,” Clint breathed. “You absolute fucking shit head.” 

Tony had the decency to look moderately guilty, but then immediately his face changing back to one of determination. 

“Clint, come on. We - we shouldn’t have been listening -” 

“No, we shouldn’t have, but that doesn’t change the fact that the only reason you turned it off is because you are scared SHITLESS to find out what Steve really thinks about you!” 

“Barton, don’t you fucking dare start -” 

“What, talking truth?” 

“This is none of your business,” Tony ground out through his teeth. 

“None of my **business?** Did you really just say that? THIS, whatever the clusterfuck this is, has all of us wrapped up in it, and you can’t just tell me -” 

“Okay, fine, you want to talk truth? Maybe we should start in on Natasha and how long you’ve been in love with HER and how you are never gonna grow the balls to tell her.” 

“That is RICH, coming from you - for someone who has been living in the spotlight his whole life, you sure are good at shifting attention away from yourself, Tony.” 

“You have no right to start in on me when you’re in the same boat, hook, line and sinker.” 

They stared at each other for a moment longer, both red in the face with anger. Clint shook his head and inhaled through his teeth, flipped Tony off with both hands, and stormed out of the workshop. 

“Real fucking mature, Barton,” Tony shouted after him. 

“You’re one to talk, asshole!” Clint yelled back. 

Tony set down the remote, hands shaking slightly. He was definitely NOT thinking about how Jarvis kept records of all surveillance in the house and he could easily go back through it and listen to the whole conversation. No. He wouldn’t do that. He - he couldn’t. No matter how much he hated to admit it, Clint was right about one thing - he was scared. Scared out of his mind to know what Steve had said. He wasn’t ready to hear it, no matter what it was. There was no way it was what Tony wanted to hear, and he couldn’t handle it if it was what Tony DIDN’T want to hear. It was a trap, either way. And he wouldn’t fall into it this time. 


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes to Bruce for help, and he tells them to stop being dumb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this has taken so long - school started, I was sick, blah, blah, excuses. I will try to be better about posting. Enjoy! And thanks for sticking with me.

Things had been...tense. That was the best way Bruce could describe the feeling around here for the last week. SOMEthing had been building since they all moved in together, and then there was that undercover mission, and now everything had somehow gone to shit.

The problem was, people kept coming to him for advice but _no one actually took his goddamn advice._

Whoa. Deep breaths.

Despite explaining that he wasn’t that kind of doctor, he had become the resident therapist of sorts, people dropping by his personal lab or asking if he wanted to get coffee as a pretense to lay out all their miseries and ask him what to do. Bruce was fine with it, that is, he WOULD be fine with it if said people would stop moping and actually act on what he advised. There would be a lot less tension and a lot more sex, he was sure of it. 

Like today: earlier that morning, Nat had popped in, wondering if Bruce had “heard anything about anyone dating anyone.” Bruce had narrowed his eyes suspciously, but truthfully answered, “No.” She had disappeared as quickly as she had come. 

Now Tony was in his room, ranting about privacy and Clint and bullshit. He was pacing back and forth, saying things like, “Clint, that asshole, how dare he say that to me?” And,” We shouldn’t have listened at ALL, I can’t believe he wanted to keep - keep spying! He’s a spy, that’s his deal, but not in my Tower, nope!”

“Tony,” Bruce started, but Tony interrupted him. 

“And what were they saying, anyway? How does he ‘feel’ about me, what does that even mean?” 

Bruce sighed. 

“I - I can’t watch the tape, I shouldn’t, it’s totally wrong, but I want to KNOW -”

“Maybe you should, I don’t know, ask him?”

Tony stopped in his tracks and stared at Bruce, mouth gaping.

“Bruce. Brucie bear, you canNOT be serious.”

“Look, Tony, you said it yourself - you want to know. So ASK. That’s what normal people do when normal people want to know things. Ask Cap how he feels. Define your relationship.”

“You can’t just GO UP TO SOMEONE and be like, ‘what do I mean to you? Are we friends or MORE than friends?’ Especially when that person has a super scary super spy girlfriend!”

“What?” Bruce sat up. “You mean Natasha?”

“Yes, Natasha - they’re always together, they’re TOTALLY dating.”

“Uh, I don’t think so, Tony.”

“They are! I know it! So does Clint!”

“Really.”

“Really.” Tony crossed his arms stubbornly, jutting out his chin confidently.

“Have you asked either of them?”

Tony looked less sure of himself. “Well..”

“Then how do you know?”

“They KISSED on their last mission.”

Bruce sat back in his chair again. “Yes, I heard, and I also heard rom several sources that it was a cover to help distract the target. How do you know it meant anything more than that? I fairly certain they aren’t dating. In fact, I’m almost sure.”

“How do you know?” Tony asked.

“Nope, I’m not letting you in on my intel. You have to put on your big billionaire pants and go find our yourself.”

“Bruuuuce…”

“No.”

“Brucie bear, pleeeease!”

“No!” 

“Brucie Bruice juicy Lucy..”

“Don’t make me angry, Tony.”

“Fine! Fine! I’m leaving, I’m leaving.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

Not 15 minutes later, Clint barges in. Bruce puts down his schematic and braces himself.

“So Stark, right?” Clint starts, and Bruce gets an entire retelling of the security video incident, with less “that cocky bastard Clint” and more “that self-righteous asshole Tony.” 

“...and now I don’t know what they were saying about me! And I never will, thanks to that spoiled egomaniac with an unhealthy reliance on electric trimmers!”

Clint always tries to get creative when he’s insulting someone. Tony and Nat usually find it amazing, Steve finds it annoying, and Bruce will never admit it, but it’s his favorite thing Clint does.

“He’s the one who STARTED the spying, so when did his stupid conscience suddenly grow a pair?”

“Have you asked Natasha what she said about you? Or what she thinks about you?”

Clint paused, shooting Bruce an eerily similar look to the one Tony had given him minutes before. 

“Yo, Gumby, maybe you should double check your incense for psychiatric drugs, you’re starting to talk crazy.”

Bruce rolled his eyes at the name calling, knowing it was knee-jerk reaction for Clint to lash out when he was uncomfortable. 

“All I’m saying is that asking Nat what she really thinks is the most direct and logical course of action and you and Tony are both being ridiculous by refusing to just talk to them. Like normal people do.”  
“All I’M saying is that is insane. Tash and I - we - we’re -”

“What?” Bruce asks. “Do you know what you are? No. You don’t, Clint, and therein lies the problem. Go talk to her. Define the -”

“DON’T. No. No DTR. This is not up for discussion. Give me a real suggestion.”

“That is my only advice.”

“You’re a terrible doctor.”

“I’m not that kind of doctor!”

“Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuce!”

“Clint!”

“What!”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Clint. Listen to what I am saying and go talk to your best friend who will STILL CARE ABOUT YOU even if she doesn’t feel the same way you do, or go shoot arrows at something or whatever you do when you’re not here complaining at me. Either way, get out of my lab before you piss me off.”

Clint was out the door in 10 seconds, yelling something about being conditioned to fear the color green. Bruce allowed himself a grin, then shook his head and sighed. 

“Idiots,” he mumbled to himself, and picked up where he had left off. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

It was a few hours later when Steve appeared, leaning against the door frame and pretending to be interested with what Bruce was studying on the hologram table. Bruce let him stand there for almost 15 minutes until he took the picture down and put his hands out on the table, staring at Steve.

“Let me guess. Tony?”

Steve had the decency to look embarrassed after the surprise worked it’s way over his face. 

“How did you know?”

Bruce doesn’t answer him, just takes of his glasses and looks at Steve expectantly.

“Okay. It’s about Tony. Do you - are he - are -”

“Steve,” Bruce all but growls. 

“Are he and Clint dating?”

Bruce blinks. He doesn’t feel his mouth fall open, but then realizes he is standing there, gaping at an increasingly worried and annoyed Captain America. 

“Did you just ask me if Tony and Clint are dating?”

It was Steve’s turn to blink. “Yes?” 

Bruce let his head fall into his hands. “Idiots,” he started mumbling to himself. “Every single one of them is an idiot - how do you even GET that many stupid people in one place this is ridiculous…”

“Uh, Bruce?”

Bruce opened his fingers a little, glaring at Steve through the gap. Steve frowned.

“You. Get out.”

Steve tilted his head forward like he hadn’t heard correctly. 

“You heard me, Steve. Go. Get out of here and stop coming to me asking questions and start fucking TALKING TO EACH OTHER.”

“Bruce, geez, take it easy - “

“I know when to take it easy, Steve, don’t you start. Just -” He took a deep breath. “Just go ask Tony instead of me. Please. For my sanity.”

“Ah - but -”

“Nope!” Bruce turned his back, pretending to read something on the desk until he heard Steve sigh and the door swish close.

“Jeeeeesus,” he said to himself. “How - what - when did this even happen.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of compiling video surveillance that suggests evidence of mutual emotional and physical attraction within the aforementioned couples, Dr. Banner, if you are interested.”

Bruce smiled briefly at JARVIS’ suggestion, was tempted for about a second, and then decided it was better for everyone’s mental health if he didn’t. Maybe later, with some popcorn, after everyone else was asleep.

“Thank you, Jarvis, but I’ll pass.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

Now if they would just TALK to each other, Bruce (and everyone) would breathe a little easier.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Clint keep spying, Natasha and Steve keep talking, and Bruce is the only one that can get anything done around here. There also might be some confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys. Whoa. I just found out there are over 200 people subscribed to this fic, and that is AMAZING (and slightly terrifying). I hope you keep reading, and don't give up on me - I will keep updating when I can. College is chaos, but a lot of you know that. Thank you so much for your support and kudos and all that jazz. Hope you like it!
> 
> [I also have no beta, so feel free to correct me!]

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Shut up. You could have said no. Plus I’m still mad at you.”

“Well I’m still mad at YOU.”

“Whatever Shut up.”

Clint and Tony were somewhere they shouldn’t be, again. Clint had begrudgingly asked if Tony wanted to spy on Steve and Natasha’s weekly breakfast at a little French place down the street from the tower - meaning he had banged on the door of the workshop and yelled, “PACK IT UP, NERD, THE PERFECT COUPLE IS IN SIGHT AND WE’RE GONNA CREEP ON THEM!”

Now, they were on the roof of the Avengers tower, being 100% creepy and cliché. 

"I cannot believe you brought BINOCULARS up here," Tony said, squinting, trying to catch the sun glinting off Steve's hair without the help. "Someone is gonna see us."

,"Shut up, Stark. You always seem to forget that I'm actually a spy, not just playing one."

"Yeah, yeah, the super spy twins. If you're so talented, why the hell don't you know for sure if they're fucking dating or not."

"You should talk - I'm surprised you're not using your fancy toys to spy on them constantly. Surely you would have caught them doing something by now." 

"That's - that's - no, that's an invasion of privacy. We are not doing that again."

"Chicken shit."

"Ass. Can you actually see what they're saying or not?"

Clint huffed a breath out. "Maybe if you’d SHUT UP I would be able to concentrate.” A lot of people didn’t know, but Clint was partially deaf and wore hearing aids. He could speak fluently in sign language and read lips pretty effectively. Only Tash knew the real story - he made up a new one every time someone asked him about it.

“He’s not facing me directly, so it’s hard to see him. But Tash is pointed this direction.”

“What are they talking about?”

“Gimme a second, Jesus. Maybe you should have installed some sort of microphone chip thing in their phones or whatever so you could spy on them yourself.”

Tony went tellingly and suspiciously silent. Clint turned for second to look at him. 

“You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

“Well. Yes. But I haven’t done anything about it. Everyone might think that Tony Stark is morally ambiguous but I do have some qualms about spying on people I love without them knowing about it.”

Clint’s eyes widened and he slowly turned again, to find Tony staring straight ahead, eyes equally wide and mouth shut in a straight line.

“Did you -”

“Yes.”

“Did you mean to say that?”

“I - I don’t think so.”

“Did you mean it?”

There was a pause as Tony considered, even though he knew the answer. He had been denying the fact that he was in love with Steve for a good month now.

“Yes.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Clint turned back to the binoculars in time to see Tash saying his name. “She’s talking about me!” Allowing Tony and convenient change of subject. 

“What?”

“He’s - something - not sure. Don’t want to ruin our friendship by making - making -”

“Making what?”

Clint backed up from the edge, dropping the binoculars to his chest. “Making a move.”

“Making a move? Like a MOVE move? Like the kind that lead to things kind of move?”

“I don’t KNOW, Stark. Shit. I don’t know. What if she - what if -”

“Clint, come on, just -”

“What is she was talking about me? Making a move? What if she KNOWS?”

“Um. Clint? It sounded like she was talking about her. HER making a move. As in she wants to.”

“You don’t know that -”

“Neither do you!”

“This was a bad idea,” Clint said, twisting the string around the binoculars up and shoving them into a pocket on his baggy cargo jeans. 

“I told you that before we even got out here.”

“Shut it, you’re just mad your golden boy wasn’t facing our direction.”

“You’re just mad that you don’t actually know what the hell Natasha is thinking and you’re too chicken shit to do anything about it.”

“Kettle.”

“Pot!”

They both glared at each other in silence, or as silent as you could get on a rooftop in New York. 

“God, this is so messed up. Maybe I should listen to Bruce,” Tony said, deflating first. He scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. 

“You talked to Bruce? I talked to Bruce too. He told me to fucking talk to her already.”

“Ha! That’s what he told me!”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s right.”

“Maybe.”

There was another, more comfortable and less angry silence.

“You hungry?” Tony asked suddenly.

“Hell yes,” Clint said, grinning. Tony gestured to the door, and the two of them headed downstairs. 

 

\-------------

“Bruce is smart. He’s - he’s the resident psychologist. Of sorts,” Steve said, idly playing with his fork. 

“He’s not that kind of doctor, Steve. But he is smart.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s wrong either.”

He and Nat were at the little French place down the street, having a breakfast-brunch of sorts out on the patio. The Avengers Tower was huge and daunting behind him, casting a shadow down the street. They were back on the same topic that had haunted them for weeks, and had become increasingly more and more evident in their conversations. 

“Are you gonna talk to him?” Nat asked, raising her eyebrow. 

“Are you?” Steve fired back, raising his. She almost smiled at him, leaning back in her chair. 

“When did it change? For you? When did Clint become more than just - Clint?”

She looked at him appraisingly, and he knew she was thinking. There was little she wouldn’t tell him nowadays.

“I don’t think there was a specific time or day. My mind just shifted somehow, and I eventually noticed that I was thinking about him differently. More than owing him a debt. More than just a partner, or a friend. He slowly and suddenly became - warm. Soft. Not just Clint, but Clint.”

Steve smiled at the affection in her voice. Nat was far more complicated than she allowed people to believe, and the way she talked about Clint made Steve sure she loved him, even when she had never said the words. 

“What about you, golden boy?”

Steve scowled at the nickname he knew Nat had used simply to piss him off. She kicked him under the table and gave him a shit-eating grin.   
“Come on, when did you know you wanted into Stark’s pants?” Nat started laughing as she could see the inevitable angry argument rise in Steve’s expression, saying things like, ‘It’s more than that.’ He realized she was teasing and just glared at her instead. 

“I don’t know either,” he said finally. And she gave him a disbelieving look. Steve knew where he stood about almost everything, and was strong in his convictions. This was one of the few times he hadn’t been able to answer her. 

“I think it might have been after - the Battle of New York?”

Nat’s eyes widened and she fought the urge to drop her jaw. “Steve. That was - that was years ago. YEARS.”

“I know!” Steve said, blushing and leaning forward to hunch his shoulders. “I know. It’s been a really long time, okay? He just - he fell, and then wanted to go get that goddamn disgusting shwarma stuff, and I - I realized that I might have feelings for him other than that of ‘teammate.’”

“Wow,” Natasha said, and Steve just nodded. 

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“I don’t know, Nat. I should, I know I should, but - what if it changes things? What if we can’t just be us anymore?”

“Steve, you haven’t been ‘just us’ for a while. It’s been weird already. Wouldn’t it be better to just have everything out if it’s going to feel strained either way?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Natasha knew better than to expect him to turn the tables back on her, pressuring her or convincing her to do the same. That was one of her favorite qualities about him - he had high morals and standards for himself, but never pressured anyone else to be like him.

“I think I’m going to talk to Clint.”

Steve turned his eyes back to hers in surprise, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s - that’s great, Nat. It will probably help a lot.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

The server came back, asking if they needed refills, and that reminded Steve of something Fury had said, and they were off on another topic, leaving the anxiety about Clint and Tony in the rear of their minds. At least until they got back to the Tower. Because when they got back, Bruce was in the common area, arms crossed, a very chagrined Tony and Clint sitting on the couch, arms crossed. 

“Okay. I found these two in the lab, trying to hack into the security cameras across the street from your diner. I am sick of this bullshit. So we’re gonna have a chat.”

Steve and Natasha shared a look, and Nat whispered, “Here we go.”


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are attacking and the Avengers are called - but this time, everyone's worrying more about each other than the actual bad guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so I'm sorry that I led you on a little bit, I PROMISE that the talk will happen and Bruce will be back and all that jazz. I honestly did not expect this chapter to happen this way either, but my brain just started going without permission. Hope you enjoy!

“Cap! They’re headed your way!”

Steve glanced over his shoulder to see Iron Man hovering a few blocks away, poised to strike, and gave an affirmative over the comms.

“Roger that, Hawkeye.”

“Roger, Mr. Rogers.”

Tony laughed, and Steve suspected it was a joke he wasn’t in on.

“I am Mister Rogers, technically. That’s my last name. My dad was Mister Rogers t - ABOVE YOU!”

Iron Man spun around just in time so blast one of the flying bug things away, making it splatter all over the ground and himself. 

“Ugh, gross! This is gonna take forever to clean off!”

Unfortunately for everyone, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Bruce’s chat did not commence as planned. Moments after Steve and Natasha had sat down, Thor had thundered, quite literally, through the bay window of the common area, showering everyone with pieces of glass. He had apologized profusely, though no one was seriously injured, and has explained that one of the portals from Asgard had been opened by a - something. Steve couldn’t remember the word he had used, but it was something akin to a fairy, though far more vicious than the ones Steve had imagined. They rode in on these googly-eyed bug monstrosities that had stingers the size of a sword, and the fairy things themselves weren’t so great either. They seemed intent on collecting samples of Earth’s populations, and had tried to nab people on the streets of New York, as well as dogs, squirrels, cats, leaves, grass - anything organic. The Avengers had immediately suited up and were trying to keep the fairy alien things from taking people through the portal.

Thor, Iron Man and Hawkeye had the advantage of flight, and were above, shooting down the creatures as they came. Hawkeye was aimed continuously at the ominous orange hole in the sky, in case any more flew out. Black Widow and Steve himself were on the ground, holding the line of pedestrians and helping any victims get out of the line of fire. Bruce was still small and human-shaped, explaining what they knew to the NYPD and the cameras that had started showing up shortly after the team had arrived. 

While unexpected, Bruce was actually fairly good at talking to reporters. Sure, he got annoyed and sometimes had to step away, but people had quickly learned that he was the one to approach during a crisis - unless, of course, he was turning green. 

“Thor, how do we close it? It’s not one of those - like the tesseract?” Steve asked, and noted that Tony started in the air, hand coming up self-consciously to his chest. 

“No, my friends, it is far more simple. One of the creatures is carrying a talisman of sorts, which is the key. If we get that one back through, it will close on it’s own. Yaaa!” Thor ended his explanation with a yell, hammer coming down on the tail of one of the bug things. 

“What does it look like?” Widow asked.

“It will be glowing the same color as the portal.”

Steve turned, eyes searching the sky for a creature glowing orange. 

“Got him!” Tony said, and Iron Man took off down the street.

“Iron Man! Do not approach without backup!” Steve barked.

“Come on, Cap, it’s not like I’m gonna - HOLY shit SHIT!”

“What? What happened?” Steve said, knowing the worry in his voice was showing.

“He’s got some sort of acid-spraying thing -”

“Dude, you are covered in goop -”

“Yeah I KNOW, Birdbrain, shut it.”

Steve could tell that it looked bad without having to see it - Clint wouldn’t hesitate to throw and insult back unless it was serious.

“I’m on the way to you, and so is Agent Hill and the team. They’ve got your backup suit with them,” Widow said.

“Shut up, how did they get that?”

“Pepper may have insisted they have it. They’re some sort of lock on it, though, so no one can open it but you.”

“Pepper. If I had to marry a woman, it’d be her.”

“Like she’d ever take you,” Hawkeye sniped. There was an explosion and he hollered. “GOT YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!”

“Hawkeye, watch it - kids are watching us. What do you mean, if you had to marry a woman?”

There was a brief pause after Steve’s question, which, he supposed he should have expected. He was notorious for keeping it professional over the comms, and this was definitely personal.

“Well, cause - you know. I like a guy. Guys! I like guys. Plural. Men. Fuck fuck fucker, I’ve gotta get out of this thing, it’s starting to melt.”

“The discharge is something I’ve never seen before, I’m sorry Anthony, I would have warned you,” Thor said, landing next to Steve.

“No prob, blondie, I’ve had worse. I think. Maybe.”

“Widow, do you have eyes on him?” Steve asked, throwing his shield at a fairy thing trying to uproot a tree. 

“Affirmative, he’s pulled his helmet off and is stepping out of the suit. Hill’s ETA is 2 minutes.”

“You might need to be faster than that - TONY! WATCH IT!” 

Steve’s stomach swooped as Hawkeye yelled. He couldn’t see Tony, so he was left to his imagination filling in the blanks with acid and stingers and blood and -

“Steven, are you alright?” Thor asked him softly, and he shook his head. Steve realized he had to focus, but his mind was running with _You never told him you never told him what if he dies you never told him_

“I need - I need to get to Tony,” he said, and he took off running. He probably shot through about a dozen of the bug things on the way, barely stopping to smash them with this shield or fists. 

“Widow, update,” he asked. There was no answer.

“Widow, update!” He yelled, and Clint’s panicked voice joined him. “Tash! Where are you?”

There was another moment of silence and Steve’s heart hammered in his chest. He pushed his legs faster, running down the street Tony had headed. 

“Tash, fucking answer me, you’re freaking me out,” Clint yelled, and there was another explosion. 

“She’s unconscious, Barton, she’s not dead!” Tony’s voice flickered over the comms, and Steve almost tripped out of relief. "She took a hit from the sword tail bullshit thing - that’s not poisonous, is it, Thor?”

“No, just sharp. Fair Natalia is not injured?”

“She’s got a cut on her forehead and one on her shoulder, and she’s knocked out from hitting the asphalt, but everything seems to be intact and she’s breathing and - HILL! OVER HERE!”

Steve rounded the corner just in time to see two agents jumping out of a SHIELD van, scooping Natasha off the ground. Tony looked small and vulnerable without the armor, and he was holding Nat’s head as she was carried to the car. He ducked his head inside the van and pulled out a briefcase, concentrating on the lock on the front. 

“Thor, Hawkeye, status!” Steve said, remembering the others. 

“I am well, Steven, though I have not found the one we are looking for.”

“I actually think I’ve got him in sights, big guy. He’s coming your way, unless someone else is shooting lightning from behind that bank.”

“That would be me!”

Steve allowed himself to tune the two men out, finally next to Tony and having to reach out and touch him to make sure he was okay. He shoulder was warm through his underarmor, and Steve could see the sweat on his neck and in his hair.

“Hey Cap, don’t look so morbid, I’m fine.”

“I’ll just feel better when you get your suit back on - you don’t heal as fast as me.”

Tony shot him a grin as the briefcase flipped open and started forming around him.

“Ah, crap - this is the wrong one. Hold on,” Tony frowned as the suit make a noise.

“What? What’s wrong?” Steve asked, turning to watch the van drive off. There was a bug thing approaching them, and Steve looked to Tony worryingly, wondering if he should stay and protect Tony or go kill the thing. 

“Steve, I’m fine, go,” Tony said, reading his mind like he usually did. 

Steve gave him one long look, nodded, and bounded towards the bug. He whipped the shield in a huge arc, sending it flying towards the creature. 

“That’s definitely the one we want! He’s the biggest, ugliest one and has a glowing orange thing around his neck!” Hawkeye said, over the comms. Steve glanced over at Tony, but he wasn’t there. 

“Iron Man, status!” Steve barked.

“In the air, Cap, heading towards Hawkeye.”

“I will remain here and continue slaying,” Thor said, a huge clang emphasizing his words.

“Copy that, I’m gonna stay here too, unless you guys need help wrangling.”

“I think we got this, Cap, if Birdbrain can keep it distracted.”

“Yo, tincan, maybe you could fucking hurry up as I am - well, now I’m out of arrows.”

“Heads up!”

Steve kept turning around to find more of the creatures coming towards him, so even if he wanted to, he couldn’t go find Tony and Clint.

“I’m surrounded, I might need a lift out of here soon.”

“Hopefully we can get them through the thing first - AH SHIT!” Tony yelled. Steve’s heart jumped.

“What? WHAT?”

“Cap, could you just focus on you for a second and let us focus on this?” Clint asked, and Steve frowned, but knew he was right.”

“Copy that.”

There was a lot more yelling, and banging, but Steve tried to push it out of his head and keep killing the bug things. It was getting annoying to have to refer to them as ‘the bug things,’ but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what they were called and didn’t want to ask over the comms. 

“Gotcha, motherfucker,” Clint hissed, and Cap shifted his attention. 

“YES! Okay, just a minute, we’re almost to the portal, these assholes should disappear in 5, 4, 3..”

Steve never heard the end of the countdown, because something heavy hit him from behind. He was knocked to the ground, shield skittering away from his fingertips. He tried to lift his head, but then was pushed into the asphalt of the street and everything went black. 

 

\----

 

“Okay, Cap, we got it! They should all be gone.”

It was the weirdest thing, watching the bug things all turn towards the portal as if they could sense it changing, and slowly winking out of existence like lights. Tony had assumed they would yell or screech or whatever alien bug fairy things did when they were vanquished, but it was eerily silent and definitely unnerving. 

“Cap?” He asked again, and the grin fell from his face.

“Yo, Steve? You there?” Clint asked.

“Steven?” Even Thor sounded worried. 

“He was just there a second ago-” Tony said, revving his suit up and taking off down the street. He hadn’t actually SEEN Steve for a good while, so he wasn’t sure where to look, but they had been able to keep the aliens contained to a couple blocks and he couldn’t be far. 

“STEVE! Where ARE you?” Tony was getting increasingly panicked, every minute passing a whole new minute Steve could be hurt - or - or - 

“STEVE!” He yelled out, spotting the red and blue crumpled figure, face down on the ground. As he pushed his suit faster than it should really go, all he could think was, _You didn’t tell him, you didn’t tell him, you didn’t tell him._

He landed, stumbling, and shucked off the helmet and the gloves, turning Steve over and lifting his head up. His eyes were closed, jaw slack and covered in scrapes, blood dripping from his usually perfect golden hair. 

“Steve! No! Please God no don’t be dead,” Tony said, the words running together as he felt desperately on Steve’s neck for a pulse. He could head Clint and Thor yelling in his ear, questioning where he was and if Steve was okay. He ignored them. 

“Steve, Steve, please, please, no - you can’t fucking die before -I say - I didn’t - I need -”

And there it was - a bubble of movement, a soft pounding of blood rushing through a vein, a pulse. Tony sobbed in relief, could feel the tears on his face, running down and dripping onto Steve. 

“He’s alive. He’s alive. Steve is alive!” He said, and Thor landed heavily in front of him. 

“Anthony, Agent Maria Hill and her compatriots are on their way to this location. They will be able to care for the good captain.”

Tony nodded, still clinging to Steve’s heavy, warm, perfect, ALIVE body. 

“You will be able to tell him when he wakes up,” Thor said softly, and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He looked up at the Asgardian, at his open, honest face, and said, “I will. When - when he’s better -” he looked down at Steve again - “I’ll tell him.”

The van screeched in front of them, and agents spilled out, lifting Steve out of Tony’s arms and prying his fingers away from the uniform, speaking reassurances and telling them that they’d let Tony know as soon as he was conscious. Tony flew back to the Tower with Thor, giving Clint a silent ride, and then holed up in his workshop, ignoring Jarvis, Pepper, the 30 emails he’d gotten in the past hour, and didn’t even let Bruce into the lab when he knocked. 

“Let me know when Steve is awake,” he mumbled, to Jarvis.

“Of course, sir.”


	11. 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up and Tony almost burns the tower down. 
> 
> And there are feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO FREAKING LONG!  
> I started a Teen Wolf fic that took over my LIFE.  
> BUT! Now we're in the home stretch, and things happen, and yay. Thank you for sticking around, I love you guys.

"TONY!" Steve gasped as he shot awake. He clutched at his chest, wide eyes searching the room. Hospital, he was in the hospital. Natasha sat, curled up in a chair in the corner, dropping the tablet she had been looking at. 

"Tony -" 

"He's not here, Steve."

Steve sat back in the bed, listening to the heart monitor go back down to a normal pace. Well, normal for him. He was surprised that someone hadn't come rushing in, but then again, they we're used to his erratic and superhuman body in practically every medical facility in the city. 

"Something...hit me. From behind."

"Yeah, you had a nasty cut and a concussion and like, 12 broken bones. But you're almost whole already - it's only been a day."

Steve sighed in relief. He was always terrified when he woke up somewhere strange - always terrified he'd lost more time and more people.

"You might want to do something about that reflex, Cap."

"What?"

"You know, the one where you yell out Tony's name the moment you're conscience."

Steve could feel himself go red, even though it was only Nat. She unfolded herself and stood, stretching like a cat. 

"I'm gonna go tell everyone you're awake."

Steve hmmed in lieu of answering. She came over to the bed and pecked him on the cheek, and he smiled. 

"I'm glad you're okay," she said, softly.

"Me too," he said, and she winked, floating out the door. Steve must have fallen asleep again, because he was awoken again by something bouncing off his face and opened his eyes just in time to see Nat smack Clint on the back of his head. Thor, Clint, Nat, and Coulson were all standing in the room, Bruce hovering just outside the door. Tony wasn’t in sight.

“Captain, I’m glad you are well,” Thor said, and he smiled. 

“Thanks, guys. Uh, where’s Tony?”

Everyone kind of shifted their gazes except Nat, who was smirking at him. “He’s been in his lab since you were knocked out,” Bruce said, and took one step into the room. He hasn’t been answering messages. 

“He’s okay?” Steve asked, worrying his bottom lip and trying to seem vaguely disinterested, though it was likely no one in the room was fooled in the slightest. 

“He’s fine,” Clint said, eying him suspiciously.

“Okay. Well. That’s good. The alien things are all gone?”

“As promised,” Thor said, nodding. 

A nurse came in and shooed the team out, Nat throwing him a smile over her shoulder, and he obediently stayed still as he was checked over and tested and tested AGAIN and then finally released, hours later. He was still sore and had an ache in his back, but there wasn’t much else to do - he burned up medication too fast for it to do any good, so he’d have to wait for his body to heal. He sighed, keying in his code to enter the tower.

“Captain Rogers, lovely to see you are doing better, sir.”

Steve smiled at the ceiling, despite the fact that Tony endlessly teased him for trying to address Jarvis like that.

“Nice to be home, Jarvis.”

“Indeed sir.”

“Where’s Tony?”

“Sir is in his workshop, Captain. I have informed him of your homecoming and he has accidentally set himself on fire.I am helping him putting it out now…”

Steve was running towards the elevator, which was opening already, almost as if Jarvis had known he would fly in Tony’s direction. Jarvis was saying something about there being no emergency, that the fire had been contained, but Steve was hearing none of it, blood rushing in his ears. 

“Stupid idiot probably used the torch without protective gear again - I’m surprised he hasn’t burnt down the whole TOWER by this point,” Steve growled to himself, fists clenching. 

“It is a wonder, captain,”Jarvis said, and Steve narrowed his eyes at the ceiling.

When the doors opened, all Steve could see was a column of flame, smoke and no Tony. His eyes widen and he bursts into the room, running straight for the flame, sure that Tony has - 

A hand on his arm stops him.

“Cap! Whoa, don’t go over there. I have to let it burn out, and I absolutely hate the smell of fire extinguisher. It’s controlled, won’t be a minute.”

Steve stares at Tony, his face smudged, shirt dirty, hair a mess, an easy smile on his face. He looks relieved to see him, and he looks more beautiful than ever. Steve loops an arm around Tony’s neck and gently pulls him close.

“Steve, what -”

And then Steve kisses him, once, softly on the mouth. Tony’s breath stutters and there’s sudden silence, the flames having died out too.

“I’m - Tony, I need to -”

“What the FUCK, Steve?” Tony yells, and it’s like a blade in Steve’s chest. Tony has pulled away, out of arm’s reach, and Steve is left grasping at the air. 

“Steve, why did you do that? You can’t do that!”

Tony’s hands are in his hair, and he’s turned with his back to Steve.

“I’m so sorry, Tony, I thought - I misread -”

“Misread? Steve, what the hell, there is no misreading, there should be no reading of any kind! You can’t read!”

“What?” Steve asks, confused again.

“No, it doesn’t - I wanted - okay, look. I may have been desperately wanting you to kiss me just now, but that doesn’t mean you SHOULD have!”

“Wait, you wanted me to kiss you too?”

“Yes! I always want you to kiss me, I’m in love with you!”

There was shocked silence after that, Tony staring at Steve with wide eyes and Steve staring back. Then Tony took a deep breath and just - deflated. Looked older than Steve had ever seen him.

“I promised - I would tell you, when you got back, how I felt, because I couldn’t handle the idea of you dying without knowing how much you mean to me. So there’s the truth, and I’m really sorry, I don’t want it to come between us and I’ve been trying really hard to get over it, but -”

“Why? Tony, why would you need to get over it?”

Steve’s heart was hammering in his chest, his thoughts flying, his feet light underneath him. Tony loved him back. _Tony loved him back._

“Because, hi, hello, duh, you’re dating Natasha?”

Steve gaped at Tony, and then started laughing, though the lines on Tony’s face deepend because of it. He took a step towards Tony and wrapped him up again, this time in a bone-crushing hug, still laughing.

“Not that I don’t like this,” Tony said, muffled into Steve’s chest, “but what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Steve pulled back, but just enough to look Tony in the eye. 

“I’m not dating Natasha.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “You’re not?”

“Nope. Never have, never will.”

“But I thought - I - me and Clint, well, -”

“You thought wrong. Nat likes Clint, not me.”

“CLINT?! Shut up, I have to - he - but you guys went on dates! You kissed!”

“For a mission,” Steve frowned slightly.

“And you’re all touchy and booing at the TV and -”

“We’re really good friends, and I love her, but not the same way I love you,” Steve said, running a finger softly down Tony’s cheek, which bloomed pink.

“Steve, don’t just say shit like that.”

“I mean it, Tony, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you for weeks, I just -” Steve paused, and instead of explaining himself, kissed Tony again, and found himself wishing he never had to stop. 

“Barton’s gonna flip his shit,” Tony whispered against Steve’s lips, making Steve laugh.


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, everyone knows what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for hanging on with me - sorry for the inconsistent postings! I hope you liked it, hope you like this final chapter, and I LOVE comments! Thank you my beautiful readers!

_Nat likes Clint, not me. Nat likes Clint, not me. Nat likes Clint, not me._

Clint may or may not have followed Steve down to the workshop and ~~spied on~~ observed Steve and Tony’s interaction. He got furiously angry when Steve kissed Tony the first time, was just as shocked when Steve said he wasn’t dating Natasha, and now his brain was playing on repeat the most unbelievable and beautiful sentence he had ever heard. 

He was back up in the common room, perched on the back of the couch, staring at the floor, thinking. That’s the only reason he didn’t hear her approach.

There was suddenly a slender hand at his throat and the brush of hair at his cheek. 

“You are so dead,” Tash said softly in his ear, and he tamped down a shudder.

“You’re the only person in the world I would let kill me,” he said, turning to grin at her. She returned the smile, and nodded her head. 

“Same.”

He grabbed her wrist and flipped her around, dropping on top of her on the floor. They often did this - pulling each other into sparring matches without warning. Clint’s heart rate was way out of control. It was actually freaking him out. 

“Are you okay?” She asked him, voice muffled by the carpet.

“Yeah, Tash, sure, I just -”

Clint trailed off, biting at his nail. She twisted her hips and kicked him off, spinning around to catch his next punch in his hand.

“Is this about Tony?” She asked, looking at him with concern.

“Tony? What?” Clint asked, completely thrown off. 

“I just - I figured that they talked out their shit and maybe you were disappointed.”

“What?” Clint asked again, sounding dumb but not knowing what else to say. He ducked underneath her hand and swiped a foot at her legs, but she jumped, avoiding him.

“Because you and Tony…?” Tash said, raising an eyebrow at him, like he was actually an idiot.

Clint stared at her for a moment, and then closed his eyes. 

“You - you thought that I and TONY? Really? Tony. Tony Stark and I. We were at thing.”

“I saw you sparring and laughing. And - maybe other stuff.” She took advantage of his eyes being closed to circle around him and lock her arms around his throat.

“OTHER - Tash, Tony has had a hard on for Cap since he laid eyes on the blond glory. There is and NEVER will be anything between him and I.” He flipped her over his head and she landed gracefully, turning back towards him.

“Oh,” she said, and smiled softly. Which - almost confirmed what Clint had overheard from Steve. She almost never smiled like that. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, trying not to get his hopes up before the proof. 

“Me?” She spun around, aiming a kick for his head, which Clint caught and twisted, making her turn.

“Yeah, uh, we - Stark and I. We thought you and Steve were together. Or wanting to be. That’s why Tony took so long to make a move. On Steve.” She leapt at him, locking her limbs around his body.

Tash made a face of shock and slight disgust, which made Clint laugh. She punched him in the side of the head, lightly. Sort of. 

“No, you idiot. Why would you think that?”

“You guys were practically attached at the hips! You go on weekly dates! You boo at TV together! It’s not a big leap, Tash.” She tried to close her thighs around his head in her signature take-down move, but he saw it coming and twisted his arms between her legs and knocked them both to the ground.

She tilted her head obligingly, nodding slightly. “That’s true. But that’s not all dating stuff.”

“You kissed on that mission. And it looked real.” 

Clint didn’t notice how petulant he sounded until Tash started laughing at him. She danced away from him, not even breathing hard, across the room.

“Were you jealous?” She asked, still laughing a little.

“Yes,” he said seriously, and suddenly her playful smile was gone. 

“I heard Steve say something downstairs - about you, and I wanted to know if it was true? Because the only reason I haven’t said anything to you - other than being scared out of my mind - is because I thought you were gunning for Mrs. Captain America.”

Tash was still staring at him from across the living room, toes digging into the thick carpet. 

“Well, that’s not a thing,” she said, lifting a leg to stretch it over her head.

“Well then you should know that I think I’m in love with you.”

And then Clint saw something he thought he would never see, never in a million years. Tash lost her balance and almost fell. She caught herself, of course, but looked up at him blinking, hands out to steady herself.

“Clint?”

“I’m not kidding, Tash, and I need to know if what Steve said was true because I’m going out of my mind here.”

“What did Steve say?” She asked, tilting her head, still composed as ever. 

“That you liked me, not him.”

“That’s not true,” she said, and Clint could feel his face fall.

“Shit, Tash, I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

Then she was there, hand on his arm, tilting his head up to look into her eyes. 

“I don’t like you, you asshole. I don’t know what this is but it’s so much more than ‘like.’ It keeps me up at night and makes me think about not dying and makes me miss you when you’re gone. That’s not what like feels like.”

Clint could feel her breath on his face, so close he could just lean in and kiss her, finally kiss her, but he resisted, still terrified of it going all wrong. But Tash took the lead, as usual, and leaned in for him. 

She was soft and warm, such a contrast to himself, and he found himself falling even further as they kissed. 

“Tash, I - why me? Why would you ever want to be with me?”

“Clint, shut up and let me make my own decisions.”

He grinned at her like a mad man, and she kissed him again. And again. And again.

 

 

Epilogue:

Bruce was sitting in his room with Thor, who surprising enough like to meditate even more than he did. They had become fast friends and Bruce was currently letting the Asgardian sample his tea collection. 

“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, “ Jarvis started, “but per your request, I have the need to inform you that Dr. Banner and Director Fury now owe Agent Coulson and Agent Hill $300 each, according to the aforementioned bets places on relations currently evolving. Thor may yet win the secondary bet of $50, but I will have to continue surveying the events and let you know at a later time. I would not be surprised if both bets were complete by this evening.”

Bruce had started laughing after the first sentence, and now Thor was sporting a huge grin as well.

“We will have to call Coulson and tell him the good news of new unions! And possible fornication!”

Bruce laughed so hard he had to sit down.


End file.
